SWORD FOR SALE—WARNING—MIGHT BE HAUNTED–$150

This sword is from the 1700s. I got it at an antique store in my memaw’s hometown back in 1984. The person who sold it to me told me to be careful because there is a 90+% chance that it is cursed. Since it’s been in my house my life has descended into pure chaos. My knitting group came over and they all said they could feel a strange energy in my sword room (I have a collection of over 100 swords. This is my only haunted sword). Since I got this sword, about 3 times a week a crucifix will fall off of my wall for no reason. I am 76 years old. I cannot have this cursed item in my house anymore. Please take it off my hands!!

This is my response:

I am very intrigued by your sword, but unfortunately the $150 asking price is far too much. Instead, I would like to offer a trade. I have two unique and haunted pieces that I think might exceed the value of your haunted sword, and which you might then trade or sell, thus allowing you to acquire more non-haunted swords for your knitting bunker.

The Haunted Painting

It is called The Green Man and is about 8 feet by 5 in size. It darkly looms. I had a heart attack in its presence, and then fell into a black and murderous depression as I sat beneath it working on my graphic novel about a green man who goes on a killing spree. If it wasn’t for Netflix, I’m not sure I would have pulled out of that spiral. The paintings bold use of colour and the ominous unsettling mystery that it projects, one that seems everywhere at once, but mostly, in a threatening way, above and behind you, ensures that the Green Man will always make for an amazing, if chilling conversation piece.

The Haunted Squirrel

The squirrel is called Mr. Peanut and he was found hanging from a hydro wire in front of our apartment. It was as if he had just committed suicide. I have no idea why, but I was compelled to bring his carcass down and stuff it. Since then, he has lived on our mantelpiece, but occasionally we find him in different parts of the apartment as if transported by mystical elements we do not understand. For instance, I once woke up from a nightmare yelling ‘SKY DEATH’ with Mr. Peanut on my throat. It’s truly unique piece.

I will trade you both the haunted painting and the haunted squirrel for the haunted sword. It is a good deal.

Let me know.

Michael Murray

Heidi, our dog:

Our eight-year old Miniature Dachshund has a mysterious marking that looks a little bit like a scar on her nose. When we asked the breeder about this she became very nervous and evasive, worrying the Rosary Beads she had around her neck. She told us it was a “bee sting,” but then begged us not to ask any more questions, knocking $50 off the price for Heidi, “Just take her now, please!!”

Since we took her, we did some research and found out that she was rejected by a previous family. The dog, apparently excited, jumped on the family’s three-year old daughter, knocking her over onto a coffee table. The girl hit her head and was rendered unconscious. The family found her probably about ten minutes after the encounter, with Heidi licking the blood off her head so that it was all over her muzzle. The family was utterly traumatized.  The girl fell into a coma, and although she survived, she now has an imaginary friend named Heidi who makes her do bad things. The family returned Heidi, our dog, to the breeder immediately after the incident. It was the fourth time Heidi had been returned to the breeder by frightened families.

Heidi has knocked me down on at least seven different occasions.

The Crying Boy:

This print, by the Italian artist, Bruno Amadio, was “given” to us by a friend who said he no longer had space for it as he had moved. The painting is huge, perhaps seven feet by five feet, and it looms massively above our living room sofa. Wherever you are, the crying boy is staring at you. We have had the painting for 1 year, and in that time I have been fired from 6 jobs, got shingles and assaulted 4 people. The painting is cursed. I tried to burn it once, but it was impervious to flames.

Heidi’s toy, Belial:

The breeder hastily shoved this toy into Heidi’s crate just as we were about to drive away, “It’s named Belial,” she shouted, “ it is of your dog!” We thought it was a pretty weird thing to say, but whatever. As it turns out, this squeak toy is indestructible. I have thrown it out at least a dozen times and even gone so far as to bury it in the backyard, but it always returns, lying at the end of our bed, staring at us with it’s dead, demon eyes.

Sometimes, when Heidi is playing with it and there’s a frenzy of squeaking in the apartment, Rachelle and I can sometimes hear recognizable phrases forming amidst the cacophony. ” Four-eyes must die,” “Drown him in blood,” “Eat all his food,” “His fear feeds you.” Once, I woke up from a nightmare*(see next entry) to see Belial in the chandelier above our bed just staring down at me. It was the most chilling thing I have ever felt.

Squirrel Pelt Blanket:

When we first got this blanket as a gift, we kept it at the foot of our bed, but both Rachelle and I were plagued by horrible dreams about being a squirrel and getting hunted down and skinned by an old, West Pennsylvania Mountain Man. The same dream, again and again and again. They were utterly terrifying and we’d both wake up screaming, the dog shrieking, too. When we moved the blanket and put it on a radiator in the living room, the nightmares stopped, although squirrels, baleful and lost, often mass on the fire escape outside the window and just stare in at it, as if in silent, foreboding judgment.

*******************************************

Ponderosa

By Dan

Fucking A.

The Ponderosa delivers like a goddamn steak mailman.

Unlimited chocolate milk? Unlimited awesome.

Love the swinging doors and bacon bits, and almost everybody working there was wearing a hairnet, so you know that they’re serious about their crap. I’d definitely go back. Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker!

The Pink Dragon

By Keo

The food is very good here but I swear to God the place is haunted! I went down to the basement to use the bathroom and while I was washing my hands I saw a pale Asian man standing behind me in the mirror, but when I turned around there was nobody there. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but later I was told that the Pink Dragon was built on an old Chinese morgue and was known to be haunted. Apparently a dishwasher stabbed a cook to death there too, and after that they erected those lion-dog sculptures out front to ward off evil spirits. If you take a close look, you’ll notice that there’s no #9 on the menu, and this is because the cook was murdered on the 9th day of September, the 9th month of the year.

Der Speisewagon

By Anthony

Lauren and I used to go to Der Speisewagon together. It was kind of our place. Felt weird, sad-weird to be there alone. When Lauren and I were together German food seemed kind of fun, like a campy polka, but now it just seems blunt and obnoxious. I don’t really remember what I had, some sort of sausage and a shit ton of beer, I think, so you know, just not very memorable. Lauren, she’s memorable. She was my schnitzel.

Chuck E. Cheese’s

By Susan

Look, I know that this is a place for kids, but Jesus Fucking Christ! The food was awful, like garbage they dug out of a hole. Not even a drunk person could eat it. I ordered the “chicken sandwich,” and I am damn sure positive that what they served was not chicken. Maybe goat. Or squirrel. God knows. The staff was lobotomized and dirty, and the kids unsupervised savages. I saw one 6-year-old girl with hot, greasy cheese strands in her hair and two pepperoni slices covering her eyes. The plus side is that they sell beer. I had four. And then, drunk, I drove my son home, swearing to never, ever set foot in that accursed place again. The horror, the horror.